Scarlett
by Moony3003
Summary: A young woman arrives on Sherlock's doorstep claiming to be his daughter but can she be trusted? Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Nothing of Sherlock Holmes belongs to me. Written for fun.

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A/N: I've been trying to write this for a little while, so we'll just see how it goes. Also sorry for the bad summary. I really need to try and improve those.

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Scarlett

On an overcast and cloudy day, there was an unexpected knock at the front door of 221B Baker Street. As the landlady, Mrs. Hudson opened the door; she stared down at the young woman who stood tall on the doorstep, clutching an old and a faded handkerchief in one hand and a tall black umbrella in the other.

Her dark hair cascaded down past her shoulders fluidly, reminding a person of silky water. Her dark eyes betrayed a curiosity and her clean, pale skin seemed flawless and delicate. The corners of her pale pink lips turned upwards into a shy smile as she looked at the woman before her. Mrs. Hudson returned the smile.

"Hello, dear, can I help you?"

"I hope so," the young woman replied. "I wondered if a Dr. Watson or Mr. Holmes is currently in and available."

"Yes, I believe both of them are home right now," Mrs. Hudson replied. "Which of them would you prefer to see?"

The young woman bit her bottom lip almost nervously as she thought about it. Truthfully, she didn't know either man at all but she decided to go with the one she had actually come to see. "I shall like to speak with Mr. Holmes, please," she eventually answered politely.

Mrs. Hudson took a step back and invited the young woman in. Taking her coat, she placed it on the rack that stood in the corner beside the door and soon had her umbrella join it. The older woman turned to her again.

"May I ask who you are?"

"Oh, forgive me. My name is Scarlett Holmes," the young woman answered, with an embarrassed smile. Mrs. Hudson gave a great look of surprise and part of her hoped the surname was nothing more than a coincidence. "And you...?"

"Mrs. Hudson," she replied quickly, shaking the girls hand lightly. "I'm the landlady. Both Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes are tenants. Please, follow me."

"Thank you."

Scarlett followed the landlady up a flight of seventeen stairs and they came to a quick stop outside of two doors. Turning to the one beside the staircase, Mrs. Hudson knocked firmly, but there was no answer.

"Mr. Holmes?" she questioned in a loud but polite voice. "You have a visitor."

There was almost an immediate reply. The voice was hard and quite harsh. "Send them away!" said the man within the closed off room. "I am not seeing any clients today."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head irritably and turned the brass knob. The door was unlocked. Poking her head around, she quickly spotted Holmes; sitting upon the floor, looking idly through a newspaper that seemed to be several days old. She entered without given expressed permission and faced her tenant.

"Mr. Holmes, there is a young lady here to see you," Mrs. Hudson said, her voice going softer with each word. "I do believe this will interest you."

Mrs. Hudson motioned for the girl to enter and at seeing Holmes for the first time, she smiled faintly. He took no notice, making Mrs. Hudson clear her throat loudly to get his attention. At seeing the young woman, Holmes seemed to stop mid-thought. His interest seemed to have peaked slightly. His eyes narrowed as they looked over her distrustfully. Without saying another word, Mrs. Hudson decided to leave them be.

Just as she reached the bottom of the staircase, a sound started behind her and at the top of the stairs stood Dr. Watson, a noticeable frown present on his face. She hurried back up but stopped half way and pointed towards Holmes' rooms and whispered to him, earnestly.

"You may want to join them."

"Them?" Watson asked quickly, clearly confused.

"Holmes and a visitor who happens to share his surname. I don't think I want to be in that room but I do pray she isn't his daughter," Mrs. Hudson said in a hushed voice.

"I'm sure you're mistaken," Watson said, not believing her words. "But I shall keep an eye on him."

With a nod of her head, Mrs. Hudson returned to her duties she had been attending to before the knock at the door had interrupted and she left the three people upstairs to sort things out.

Upstairs, Watson entered Holmes' room without knocking and instantly, he noticed the young woman. He wasn't sure he believed her claims but she did have a right to speak her mind. Holmes was on his feet and appeared shaken and a little angry. It seems words had already been spoken. He turned to the window, putting his back to the woman and Watson.

"I have no children," the detective spat. "It's not possible."

"But I am here," Scarlett said quickly. "I tell you no lies, sir. I am proof-"

"No, you are not," Holmes said sharply, turning to face the woman again. "I care not for the lies you have been told. Leave my presence this instant."

Slowly, Scarlett nodded her head and tears welled up in her eyes, stinging them greatly but Holmes noticed nothing. He went back to the paper that he had had his interest in previously and ignored the people still near him. Watson couldn't help but noticed the tears that Scarlett seemed determined not to shed. She licked her shakily lips and spoke evenly, despite how she felt.

"I apologise, Mr. Holmes, for interrupting. Good-day."

She turned sharply on her heeled boots and left the room. When the footsteps had turned faint, Watson held his chin out defiantly as he looked down at his friend on the floor who still seemed engrossed by something.

"There was no need for that, Holmes," said Watson, opting to choose his words wisely.

"She's a liar," Holmes spat, not looking up from the paper.

"You have no proof of that," Watson retorted quickly. "There was no need to speak to her the way you did." Watson walked to the door but paused for a moment to say one last thing. "If you bothered to notice, she has some of your features; in particular, your eyes."

Watson left the room just as promptly as Scarlett had done, leaving Holmes be. Leaving the house quicker than he thought he possibly could, he glanced up and down the street, looking for a glimpse of the woman that had just left. Seeing her after a few moments, he quickly went after her.

"Miss. Holmes?"

Despite the voice in her head that told her to keep walking, Scarlett slowed and eventually came to a stop before turning around. She watched as Watson hurried towards her. As he also came to a stop, he seemed slightly out of breath. He looked down at her gently and spoke in a soft tone.

"I do apologise for my friend's brash tone and behaviour," Watson said breathlessly. "He normally isn't so callous."

"No apology is necessary, Dr. Watson," Scarlett said, looking back at him. She found his light blue eyes quite endearing. "It went differently in my head when I pictured it but I do realise it could still have been worse. Even though it was informally, it was a pleasure to meet you. Have a nice day, Dr. Watson."

She turned to leave but stopped as she felt a slight tug of her sleeve. At seeing Watson's hand upon her she gave him a look of surprise. Removing his hand quickly, he muttered another apology and spoke quickly to avoid an awkward situation.

"Miss Holmes, for some reason I am inclined to believe you when you say that you are Sherlock's daughter. Please, give him a few days to calm down and we shall meet again. Would that be suitable?"

Scarlett thought it through for a moment. She had to admit the offer was tempting. She wanted to know more about the man that seemed to have captured her mother's affection although she had never been able to keep it. She sighed lightly before nodding a couple of times.

"Yes, that would be more than suitable," she said softly. "I am staying at the Grand Hotel, room twenty-four."

Watson tipped his hat to her and she gave a small nod of her head before turning to leave. Once she disappeared from sight, Watson went back home. He needed to speak to his old friend and explain why this meeting was necessary.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry to anyone, (Drowning hats and tea - your message was received and appreciated), waiting for the next chapter. I hadn't forgotten. I meant to post it a couple days ago but unfortunately, life got in the way, as it always does. Next chapter should be up sooner. Thank you for continuing to read. :)

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Chapter Two

As Scarlett stood at one of the few tall windows in her room, she looked through the glass panel down onto the street below. People walked past, in deep conversations with one another and she found herself unable to stop watching them. She found the human race to be a curious thing. Being capable of so many things, love, passion, fear, death; but the main thing her mind returned to was the bad things they were capable of.

A firm knock at the door pulled Scarlett from her thoughts and she looked towards the white door. The gold markings around it shone brightly from the light glaring in through the window. Running her hands down her floor-length, simple blue dress, Scarlett made sure she looked presentable and walked towards the door.

Upon opening it she saw the face of one of the hotel employees. "Good afternoon, Miss Holmes," he said politely with a smile. "There is a Dr. Watson waiting for you downstairs in the dining room."

A faint smile crept onto Scarlett's face. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Tell him I shall be down shortly."

The man nodded and promptly left to deliver the message. Scarlett closed the door and walked to the bed and sat down. She needed a couple of minutes first. It seemed Dr. Watson had come through after all. Feeling her hands convulse Scarlett clasped them together and she placed them in her lap. To say she was nervous was a great understatement. The moment she had wanted was now here.

Getting to her feet carefully, she smoothed the fabric of her dress down again and exited her room noiselessly. Stepping into the dining area with light steps, she glanced around the room. It wasn't long before she spotted two people who sat together at a medium sized table. They seemed to be in a deep conversation although one of them did seem uninterested in what the other was saying.

Cautiously, Scarlett made her way over and once she was spotted by Watson, he immediately got to his feet although the man beside him, Sherlock Holmes, did not. Scarlett heard a muffled kick under the table and grudgingly Holmes got to his feet. Watson took her hand in greeting and sat her down beside Holmes and opposite himself.

Once everyone was settled, Scarlett found she had trouble looking at Holmes for too long. For some reason, whenever he looked back it made her feel nervous and self-conscious. But it was quickly forgotten as Watson cleared his throat and leaned forwards slightly.

"Would you like a drink, Miss Holmes?"

They both ignored the slight choking sound which Holmes made low in his throat. Her faint smile returned. "Whatever you are having will be fine, Dr. Watson," Scarlett replied.

"The red wine it is then," Watson said as he lifted the glass bottle that was already on the table. "And please, call me John."

Scarlett's smile widened a little more and she nodded her head once slightly, indicating that she heard him. She then watched as he poured the red wine into a Victorian goblet. It was decorated with frosted leaves, on fluted baluster stems and had star-cut feet. When Watson set the bottle down, she picked up her glass and took a small sip. When she put it back down, she licked her lips and looked up at Watson.

"I am glad you got back to me," she said quietly.

"Well," Watson said, sighing slightly. "I did say I would get him to come around and he promised to be on his best behaviour, didn't you Holmes?"

"Yes, quite," Holmes said, fair-mindedly.

Watson shot Holmes a small warning look before his facial features relaxed again. It went quiet between the three people and Scarlett instantly felt a little awkward. She had to at least say something.

"Do you have your own medical practice, D- John?" Scarlett said, correcting herself.

Watson smiled, glad that she finally used his first name. It was more than acceptable. "Yes," he said, shifting in his seat. He had felt the awkward silence too and he more than realised that Holmes wasn't interested in being here. "It's not far from home. Only a few streets away, just on the corner."

"You have no appointments this afternoon?" questioned Scarlett.

"No," Watson said shaking his head. "No appointments until tomorrow." There was a small pause. "So, Miss Holmes, tell us about yourself."

"Scarlett, please," she said, feeling a little embarrassed. "Well-"

"If I may," Holmes offered.

Watson instantly shook his head. "Holmes, I'm sure the woman is more than capable of telling us about herself."

"So am I," Holmes said quickly, looking at Watson.

Scarlett looked between them. She knew Sherlock was a detective who sometimes assisted the police. She had also been told of his brilliant ability to tell things about a person from the smallest details. Other than what she had been told though, she didn't know much.

"No, please," Scarlett said swiftly looking at Watson. "I'm curious to know what he has learned by just looking at me."

"See, Watson, she's curious," Holmes muttered. He turned in his chair to properly face the woman that sat beside him. Holmes cupped his chin with his hand and he took a moment to look her over properly. Inwardly, Scarlett admitted that it felt a little uncomfortable to have him judging her in such a close way but she wanted to see how close he would get.

"From a young age you were raised by your grandparents," Holmes started, confidently. "As a child, they taught you to sit up straight, speak formally and dress appropriately but it's all for show. You secretly rebelled against them in your head and it's something you struggle with daily. It also doesn't help that your mother is never mentioned. Your nickname as a child was shadow..."

"Holmes..." Watson whispered warningly.

But Holmes continued, seeming not to hear his friend. "You wear a limited amount of jewellery or none at all which does suggest quite a low income, as does the manner of dress you wear. You were recently or are currently engaged to be married. The faint outline markings of a ring are still present. I would wager on currently engaged since, on your own, you wouldn't be able to stay in a hotel such as this one. It leads me to believe that your fiancée is paying for your trip here and is expecting you to return, at which, you have no intention of at present."

Scarlett held her hand up and chuckled breathily, feeling a little overwhelmed. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Holmes," she said quickly. He turned quiet and she knew she didn't have to justify anything, she decided to be honest. "It's true..."

"Miss Holmes, no explanation is necessary," Watson said quickly.

"No, I don't mind," said Scarlett, her voice almost inaudible, putting her attention back onto Holmes. "I was raised by my grandmother, my mother's mother. She was quite strict and she disapproved of many of my mother's life choices. My mother died when I was about four and yes, her nickname for me was shadow because I would follow her everywhere, shadowing her footsteps."

Scarlett paused for a moment to take a deep breath. "My grandmother didn't have much money and my mother sent herself broke after having me. It infuriated my grandmother to no end and we had trouble coping. Also, yes, I am currently engaged and you are correct in saying I would like not to be. I have plans to return home but there was something here I needed to attend to first. The engagement was arrangement by my grandmother who wanted me to marry into money."

"And the thing you need to sort out here is Holmes?" Watson asked lightly.

Scarlett nodded. "Yes," she said quietly. "Mr. Holmes, I know without a doubt that you're my father and I would like the chance to prove it to you, which will not be hard."

"You have a certificate of birth?" asked Watson slowly.

"Yes," Scarlett repeated. "It lists you as the father." She paused and continued when Holmes said nothing. "Mother spoke of you many times, rather fondly too as I remember. Deep down I knew she was heartbroken at not being able to see you again but a few times I remember her saying how I reminded her of you."

Silence descended upon the table and both Watson and Scarlett looked at Holmes, who got to his feet, lighting up his pipe as he did so. He looked down at Scarlett and gave her an almost soft glance.

"Your mother was Stephanie King," Holmes answered just loud enough for her to hear. "I met her during a case and a few things got out of hand. I'm sorry for your loss but there is nothing here for you."

Without another word, Holmes departed leaving both Scarlett and Watson feeling a little shocked by the man's words and sudden departure. Scarlett looked at Watson and her mouth opened a couple of times but she closed them when realising she had nothing to say. Watson cleared his throat and got to his feet.

"Please don't take his words too personally or too seriously," said Watson quietly. "This has been a larger transition for him than he's used to." Watson hesitated before saying more. "And please, do not leave just yet. It can happen but it certainly won't be overnight."

His words made Scarlett feel a little better and she got to her feet and together, they left the dining room and entered into the lobby. Watson escorted her to the elevator where they both stopped again. Scarlett pressed her hands together tightly as she looked up at him. She smiled softly.

"Dr. Watson, I do thank you for your kindness but please, do not excuse Mr. Holmes' intentions," she said firmly. "I will not intrude upon his life if it is not wanted." The elevator door opened and Scarlett quickly stepped inside. Watson's eyes followed her. "I will be leaving in a few days. It was a pleasure to meet you."

The doors closed and Watson felt a little taken aback. Since she was related to Holmes, he hadn't expected Scarlett to just give up but it seemed to him that maybe she had had one too many disappointments in her life. Sighing heavily, Watson left the hotel but he did not go straight home as he knew Holmes would not be there.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Tears welled up in Scarlett's eyes as she watched the man before her get angrier and angrier. He moved around the table, for the moment, ignoring the papers that littered it and looked back at her, his anger still mounting.

"What do you mean you can't do this? We had an agreement!"

"It's illegal and-"

The man brought his fist down against the table, the bang echoing off the hotel walls, startling Scarlett, a few tears spilling over her cheeks rapidly.

"It's not right, Eric, and I can't... I won't..."

Eric moved from around the table and walked towards Scarlett, making her move back in fright, but too soon she hit the wall and he was right in front of her, placing his hands either side of her, blocking her escape paths.

"Listen to me, _Scarlett, _I don't care what your good for nothing conscience is telling you but what I say goes or you lose everything and go back to that crap hole your grandmother lives in. Is that clear?"

Fearing his anger would get the better of him like it did last time; Scarlett nodded her head rapidly, ignoring the tears that still flowed down her cheeks. "So, what do we do now then? Sherlock isn't buying anything I'm telling him."

Removing one hand off the wall, Eric gently wiped one of Scarlett's cheeks. "The showing of the artefact is in a few nights. There's still time. Besides, I believe a certain doctor has a thing for you."

As Eric lowered his hand, Scarlett raised her eyes upwards locking them onto his dark brown ones. "Y-you mean Dr. Watson?" she asked slowly. "I can't... Eric he's a nice man, he doesn't deserve this. There'll be other artefacts..."

"But this artefact will be returned home after it's showing in a few nights and there won't be another chance."

"But-"

"And this is the artefact my client wants and it's the one he's going to get," interrupted Eric, finishing what he wanted to say.

Stepping closer to Scarlett, Eric cupped her face with his hands and leaned forwards, claiming her lips with his, pressing his body into hers, and pushing her into the wall. Going with what he wanted, Scarlett placed her arms around his torso before opening her mouth, allowing Eric access. He plunged his tongue inside, deepening their kiss.

But as Eric's hands wandered down Scarlett's body, slowly lifting the material of her dress, Scarlett removed her arms from around Eric and placed her palms flat against his chest and pushed him back firmly but to no avail.

"No, Eric, we can't do this," she said in a hushed whisper, breaking their lip contact.

"That's right, we're not married yet and we must keep you untouched for Dr. Watson," he whispered excitedly, his warm breath hitting her face.

Scarlett blushed from his words and continued to try and push him right away from her. "Stop it," she hissed angrily. "Just tell me what's going to happen now."

Eric moved his body off hers but stayed close; making sure not a word was missed. "What happens now is that we're going to the showing of that artefact and you're going to look just like your pretty little self and hopefully it will be enough to distract Holmes, maybe Watson will notice too, if you're lucky."

"Stop it," Scarlett repeated, her cheeks burning and her voice barely audible. "Besides, it won't matter. Sherlock won't be fooled by any of this. He already knows-"

"He knows nothing," Eric said sharply, interrupting again. Pulling out a faded piece of parchment, he waved it in front of Scarlett's face, watching as her brown eyes followed it intently, wondering what it contained. "And hopefully this little birth certificate will be all the proof that the famous Sherlock Holmes needs."

"Where did you get it?" asked Scarlett, her eyes still following the parchment.

"A friend," replied Eric vaguely. "Who will also be there along with some others. Unfortunately, we can't pull this off alone. I've had to recruit a few people."

"Can you trust them?"

"Yes," said Eric, smoothing back a few loose strands of Scarlett's hair. "I've worked jobs with them before. Relax and this will go off without a hitch. The plan is simple and everyone knows their roles. Are you sure about yours?"

Scarlett casted her eyes down to the carpeted floor and nodded faintly. "Yes," she muttered.

"Scarlett," he said warningly.

"I said yes," she said quickly, looking back at him. "I know what to do. We've gone over it many times."

"Good," said Eric, a smile appearing across his face. Stepping away from her, he walked towards the bed, opening a sealed package that sat there. "I've acquired a new dress for you to wear which should impress."

Scarlett remained where she was. Hearing the word acquired made her not want to get anywhere near the thing. It didn't sound good. She watched as he set everything up and walked back towards her and kissed her on the cheek before moving towards the door. Grabbing the handle, he stopped and turned to look at her again.

"Be there on time and do as I've instructed," he said in a low, dangerous tone. "Don't disappoint me, Scarlett."

The door closed loudly, making Scarlett jump slightly. After a few moments, everything went silent, and Scarlett sighed heavily and walked to the window. Looking down at the streets below, she felt the guilt within her clutch tightly at her chest. She knew the difference between right and wrong but it was for her fiancé. It didn't make it any better but Scarlett knew that, at least, it was almost over.

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A deafening roar filled the spaces of the circular room. Men and the odd woman lined around the boxing ring, screaming in support of their man. The two fighting in the ring had parted, the bigger one looking at the other menacingly, his face twisted in frustration and anger. But the other seemed dismissive, intent on angering his opponent further.

Just near the stairs stood one person who wasn't quite enjoying the activities as much as everyone else. Watson leaned against the wall, his ankles crossed, watching as his friend fought in the ring, taunting his opponent just because he could. He had seen it many times. It seemed Holmes wasn't tired of it yet.

As the fight finally came to an end with Holmes becoming bored of his childish antics, he strode past Watson to one of the upstairs rooms that were usually reserved for him. Watson subtly rolled his eyes before following, closing the door behind him firmly.

"Can we talk about this?"

"There's nothing to discuss, my dear Watson," said Holmes, removing his bloodied shirt and taking a long sip of what the doctor guessed to be wine from a long necked bottle sitting on the small table in the centre of the room.

"I was referring to Scarlett Holmes..."

"I know what you meant," snapped Holmes, the bottle clunking heavily against the table. "She is not my daughter."

"How do you know that, Holmes?" asked Watson instantly. "She says she has a birth certificate and she shares some of your features..."

"Yes, as do many other people I'm sure," interrupted Holmes. "And birth certificates can be faked."

"Alright, those things asides, what else gives you doubts?"

"You think meeting her real father for the first time would be more exciting..."

"She doesn't even know you."

"... and where's her fiancé and her ring? Why is she hiding them?"

"Maybe she's embarrassed."

"And if she already knew who I was, what took her so long?"

"She couldn't afford to travel here."

"Surely she can write a letter."

Watson hung his head and sighed in defeat. It seemed his old friend had an answer for everything. Personally, he wanted to believe that the young woman they had met was telling the truth and Watson had spoken it himself. She did resemble him far more than any person he had met before.

Deciding that the discussion could wait until his friend's stubbornness had subsided a little, he moved on. "Will you still be at the museum on Saturday night?"

"Yes. Why would I not go?" asked Holmes, pausing in his movements to shoot Watson a look of confusion. "I promised the inspector."

"That you did," said Watson with a small smile, glad that the night had not been forgotten. "It starts at nine. Make sure you shower and dress appropriately."

"As always," muttered Holmes.

Watson walked to the door. "Our previous conversation isn't over, Holmes. This time is not something you can just ignore and expect it to go away."

The silence from Holmes told him that he had become a problem that he wanted to be rid of and upon shaking his head, Watson donned his hat and trench coat and departed, leaving Holmes alone. Once the thud of the door closing sounded through the room, the detective finally looked up, staring at the chipped brown wood.

Blinking slowly, Watson's word resonated through his head. He already knew the problem wasn't about to leave at all. He was sure that the problems with this woman and whatever she wanted were just starting.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry to anyone who has been waiting for this chapter. I've had a small writer's block with this story but I think it's gone. Hopefully.

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Chapter Four

As Scarlett exited the cab, she looked up and down the well lit street. Hundreds of people were already hanging outside the museum, some of them waiting to get in. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her invitation from her black purse and slowly walked towards the front entrance.

The night was clear, the stars twinkled brightly and the moon hung low, only showing one side of itself. With her free hand, Scarlett pulled her small jacket around herself, partly wanting to keep her dress hidden from sight.

"Good evening, Miss," said the front guard, taking her invitation and reading it over quickly. "Please go in and have a wonderful night."

"Thank you," she whispered quietly.

After following the directions through each corridor and room, she found herself in the main area and she stopped in the doorway. It was magnificently decorated. In front of her on the opposite side of the room was a bar and beside it were a few tables and chairs. A wooden dance floor sat to the side, but there was currently no one there. On the side wall there was a long buffet table full to the brim with food. The black ceiling was littered with candles that filled the room with a warm and soft glow.

"May I take your coat, Miss?"

Scarlett's head turned sharply in surprise as they voice startled her. At seeing who the young man was she nodded and stood to the side, allowing him to help her remove it. Once he was gone from her side, Scarlett exhaled deeply, running her hands down her floor-length black gown, loving how it sparkled evenly in the candlelight.

Scarlett walked one lap of the room, taking note of everyone that was there and where they currently stood. She knew what Eric's plan was and she knew she had to get the doctor's attention and the detective's, if she could. After seeing where both Watson and Holmes stood, she made sure to walk past slowly and much to her delight, the doctor glanced her way, their eyes meeting.

Turning her head away, Scarlett saw the object in which this night was for and she walked towards it. Slowly, her head curved to the side in curiosity. It wasn't quite what she was expected but all the same, it what's they were after. After a few moments, she heard movement directly beside her and there was no mistaking who it was.

"Do you like it?"

Scarlett turned at the familiar voice and found herself faced with Watson's piercing blue stare. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks causing her to look away, instead choosing to focus on the artefact once again. But she nodded slowly as she looked it up and down, appearing to take an interest.

"It's not quite what I expected to be honest," said Scarlett, shrugging uncertainly. "I thought the grand artefact was going to be something shiny or a treasure of some sort."

Watson chuckled lightly, placing both hands in the front pocket of jacket, shrugging faintly. "Well, it is a treasure, of sorts," he said, still clearly amused. "Are you here alone?"

At the unexpected question, Scarlett turned her head softly and nodded. "Yes," she replied quietly. "My fiancée was supposed to be joining me in London but further work has come up and he's decided to see it through first. It seems as though my trip here will remain alone. I will see him when I return home."

Music filled the large room in the museum from the classical orchestra that sat in the corner, almost invisible. As the beautiful sound reached them, they remained in silence, allowing the music to wash over them.

"Well, you look lovely," Watson said politely, subtly taking in the appearance of the strapless black gown.

The blush became more pronounced and Scarlett felt her natural shyness kick in. Soon, Watson turned his body to face her entirely and held out one hand which Scarlett eyed nervously.

"Seeing as we're both here alone, would you care to dance?"

Her previous embarrassment forgotten, she watched as a few other couples moved to the spot set out for them, she nodded and took his hand. "Sure," she whispered nervously, fearing her voice wouldn't work.

Together they moved gracefully onto the small dance floor and they moved closer, taking their positions. Scarlett felt her cheeks flush hot as their clothes touched by the barest of margins and the scent of the doctor reached her. He smelt of soap and cologne which was musky, bringing back pleasant and fond memories of her grandfather.

"Is Mr. Holmes here?" asked Scarlett, trying to cover her embarrassment.

Watson subtly looked around as they turned. "Yes, well, he is, somewhere," he said, unable to locate the detective. "It was requested he be here."

"Yes, I would imagine that an artefact such as that is priceless, one of a kind and needs extra protection."

"Exactly," agreed Watson. "Although, I don't think Holmes is that interested in the artefact itself. The main reason he agreed to this is because he's being paid for his services."

"Is there something else he'd rather be doing?" asked Scarlett.

Gracefully, Watson spun Scarlett before bringing her close once again, keeping in time with the music. "No, but he likes others to think he's an extremely busy man," said Watson with a soft smile. "Holmes isn't a people person. He likes to be on his own, alone in his room, in the dark."

"Then how did you the two of you ever become friends?"

Watson chuckled. "That is an interesting question," he said, his smile reaching his eyes, making the blue shine through clearly. "And it's a long story. Perhaps another time would be better to discuss such things."

"Oh, of course, I do apologise," said Scarlett quickly, feeling her embarrassment rise.

"No, I apologise, Miss Holmes, there is nothing for you to apologise for," said Watson. "You misunderstand me, I just think it would be better to discuss in a quieter location without all these distractions. Somewhere... quieter perhaps."

"Oh, I see," said Scarlett, nodding slowly. "Well, I'd still love to hear the story."

"I'm sure we could arrange a time," said Watson, spinning her around gently again.

After a few minutes the song ended and Watson took Scarlett's hand and led her towards the other side of the room where the buffet table sat. Releasing her hand he picked up a silver goblet and looked to her.

"Would you like a drink, Scarlett?"

"Yes, please."

Scarlett watched as he poured a small amount of red wine into the goblet and handed it to her. Scarlett muttered her thanks and waited until he had gotten one for himself. It was then that Watson spotted Holmes.

"Should we say hello?" asked Watson quietly, holding his arm out for arm.

"Of course," she said, nodding, linking their arms together.

They walked towards Holmes who stood there with two officers behind him and one beside him who was talking away animatedly. Holmes nodded every so often but never looked in his direction as he surveyed the room over and over again. On reaching him, it turned quiet as they stopped and Watson instantly shot a warning look Holmes' way.

"Good evening, Mr. Holmes," said Scarlett, smiling softly.

"Scarlett," he acknowledge with a nod of his head.

"Scarlett, this is inspector Lestrade," said Watson. "Inspector, this is Miss Holmes. She's in town for a week or so, visiting people here and there, including us."

They shook hands lightly. "Pleasure, Miss Holmes."

"Likewise," she said with a small smile. "What do you think of the exhibit?"

"A little pointless to be honest," he said gruffly. "I mean, it's a skull for goodness sake. It's not like it's an ancient gold treasure of a long dead pirate or anything."

"I believe Scarlett had similar thoughts although expressed a little differently," said Watson warmly. "What do you think, Holmes?" he added, turning his attention to the silent detective.

Scarlett took a sip of her drink while watching his eyes turn to Watson, lingering for a moment before he looked away again and answered. "Beethoven was a brilliant man, a musical genius some might say but displaying his skull is somewhat on the morbid side. The man deserves to rest in peace, not have his remains viewed at by individuals who have nothing better to do, which I'm sure some of them are here tonight, waiting for the opportunity to steal it."

As the last few words left Holmes' mouth, Scarlett looked away, taking a long sip of her drink. Inwardly, she worried. Surely, it couldn't be easy for anyone, even Holmes to know what was going on. She'd hardly said a word and none of her contacts were known. Even doing a check on her name wouldn't bring up anything. And she was positive that Holmes wasn't a mind reader. He wouldn't have to stay here if he was. Taking another long sip, Scarlett sighed inaudibly. The longer the night dragged on the more certain she was that getting away with this wasn't going to be so easy.

Suddenly, at the other end of the room a shatter sound reached them along with the piercing screams of a waitress. The room turned dead silent and everyone's attention focused on the bar at the top end. Unhooking her arm from his, Watson excused himself and went over to help, Holmes right on his heels, the inspector soon following when it seemed to come clear to him. Scarlett twirled on the spot and held her goblet in both hands, swallowing nervously.

Taking a few steps closer, Scarlett listened as they muttered to each other and it was only when Watson stood up she saw him. An elderly man lay on the floor, rigid and still on his back, his eyes wide open and staring up at the ceiling, his arms splayed out to his sides.

"He's been poisoned," said Watson with a heavy sigh.

"Are you sure?" asked Lestrade quickly.

Watson gave him an incredulous look. "I'm a doctor!" he exclaimed firmly. "He's been poisoned."

Just as a reply was about to come, it was cut off as a shrill was heard behind them.

"Inspector! Inspector! It's gone! The skull is gone!"

All turned and the inspector sharply strode up to the younger officer who spoke, his face white and eyes wide in fear. He looked to the platform where the unsecured skull was sitting only moments ago. "How is that possible! You were supposed to be watching it," he yelled at his officers who lined up in front of him without having been told. "You were all supposed to be watching it!"

"We just thought..."

"Well, you all thought wrong," barked the inspector, face turning red and livid. "I want-"

"Inspector?"

Lestrade turned and watched as Holmes came towards him at an almost leisurely pace. "Lock down the building and gather all of your officers for a search."

"Excuse me?" said Lestrade, an eyebrow rising slightly.

"The artefact is still in the building. Lock it down."

Silence penetrated throughout the room and everyone looked between the inspector and detective wondering if the latter's advice was going to be taken. And after a few slow seconds, the inspector nodded his head and looked back to his officers.

"Lock down the building," he ordered loudly. "Secure every door. Nobody leaves. If you find anyone, bring them back in here immediately. You've got half an hour. Report back here when it's done."

All officers gave one head nod before moving towards all possible exits and closed them down. Upon returning a few people wandering around the museum they soon all stood back in the main room, a large, loose circle instantly appearing, encircling Holmes and slowly, he turned on the spot, looking at the all the people that surrounded him, staring back.

"Alright now, let's see who the thief is, shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Chapter is shorter than I planned and the whole story didn't go quite as I planned either. But thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and aren't too disappointed.

* * *

Chapter Five

The room was still silent, all eyes remaining on Holmes as he walked around the circle, eventually coming to a stop beside Lestrade again. Leaning in close, he whispered in the inspector's ear. Watson, along with everyone else, watched them with interest. The inspector's eyes moved down to look at the floor, nodding every so often.

Holmes soon pulled away and Lestrade moved towards his officers. Within moments they moved around the room and pulled certain people out from the circle and into the middle, close to where Holmes was standing, looking at them with an impassive stare, his dark eyes showing nothing but coldness.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked the last male being dragged into the middle.

"All in good time," said Holmes holding up one hand. "Scarlett, would you come here and join them, please?" he asked in an almost polite tone, gesturing at her.

A few people looked in her direction, including Watson whose eyes widened in surprise. But nothing was said as she moved forwards, her lips forming a thin line as she pressed them together tightly and she held her hands in front of her, clasped together securely, her knuckles pale white.

Quickly Holmes' attention moved onto the man who stood closest to her. "Your name's Eric Webber. You're from Yorkshire where you were raised by your parents until the age of seventeen when you ran away from home. You travelled from place to place; assuring you wouldn't be caught acquiring certain items for clients."

There was a slight pause but Holmes gave Eric no time to respond before he continued. "The curator of this museum isn't here but I'm sure she isn't far, correct? The waitress is also a person you hired to help you tonight. She was to place poison in a drink and make sure that someone drank it. I do suppose in choosing an elderly gentleman she thought would go down a little easier considering he was nearing the end of his life anyway, but murder is still murder.

"The distraction then caused enough of a commotion so that someone, the fake curator, could steal the artefact and hand it to the waitress who placed it in her apron and stashed it somewhere. But I do believe it is still here. You could have chosen to have someone outside waiting but considering there would be guards about you decided to go for a second distraction instead; Scarlett."

Holmes stepped away from the man he was clearly angering and stood in front of Scarlett again with an almost soft expression on his face. "When you arrived here I instantly dismissed the idea that you could possibly be my daughter since I might have been informed but if I were completely honest I will say that, for a small moment, I was shaken by the thought. I had to know if there was any truth to it at all, which I am happy to say, there isn't. Your real name is Sasha Harte. By your accent, I quickly realised that you too were from Yorkshire and I contacted several police stations in different areas. I enquired about runaways and one senior officer told me that in all the years there had only been three; two boys and one girl. I figured that girl was you. I was given your name and went out of town for a couple days to check it out myself. Your maternal grandmother, Mrs. Harte, was more than happy to hear about you. She informed me of how you were as a child, a few certain incidences that occurred and how you started dating Eric Webber at the age of thirteen. Two years later you ran off with him and never returned. Your grandmother has searched for you but with limited resources and money, the searching soon stopped."

The detective paused, taking a deep breath before he continued on. "And then when the time came for this artefact to be the next one the list, Eric discovered that I would be there and one distraction would simply not be enough. He knew of Stephanie King through his parents and the help I had given her. Mrs. King did have a child but it was a boy, who died at a young age. Eric decided to use this to his own advantage and decide on making you her child and saying that I was the father since you were about the right age. Plus you also share a few facial traits with me but I'm sure there are many other people out there that do as well. Of course, from all of this it means that I have proved beyond reasonable doubt that you are not mine. You managed to fool a few certain people and even I can't deny that the plan was a clever one, but unfortunately, not clever enough. In future, it would be wise to make sure all past paths have been ridded of."

Holmes moved away and stood beside the inspector again. "If you search the building, behind every door, within every crevasse, you'll find the artefact and the real curator."

Lestrade nodded once and set his officers to work. Within the hour, a tall brunette was brought into the room; her clothes ripped and tear stains down both her cheeks. Just as she was settled two more officers came back in and approached Lestrade, subtly handing him something.

"We have it," he said softly, handing it to the real curator. He turned back to his men. "Take them all back to the station and lock them up. Separate the men and women."

The order was swiftly carried out and Holmes turned to look at Watson who looked stunned and lost for words. Holmes nodded softly but said nothing. He understood why but it wasn't his place. It would be between them and them alone.

* * *

"Does your boyfriend have some genius plan on getting out of this?" asked Keira quietly.

"Maybe if you were a better waitress then we wouldn't be here," bit back Amy heatedly.

Sasha ignored them both. Instead she chose to stare at what she could see of the sky. It was still dark but she knew it would be dawn soon. Already she had made a request while being here but whether or not it would be seen too, she didn't know.

All of Sherlock Holmes' words were still with her. Everything he had said echoed through her head several times over. It was almost a curse. There had been a period of a couple days where she hadn't seen him but there were no questions asked on where he was. Thinking back on it now, it was foolish of her to think that a detective wouldn't investigate someone, no matter how bad the odds were of finding anything.

As dawn broke, officers lined the corridors and the door to their cell opened. "Sasha Harte. You have visitors."

She didn't hesitate to move. Getting up she left the cell, not saying a word to the two women behind her and followed to officers to a small private room. In the centre was a table, chairs and a clock high on the wall that ticked consistently. At the table she instantly spotted one person; Holmes. And behind him stood Watson, keeping a good distance from her, leaning against the wall. A faint smile tugged at her mouth. Despite not deserving any of this, she was glad both of them came.

Sitting at the table, it remained silent until the officer that escorted her left the room and stood guard outside. Feeling embarrassment, she avoided Watson's eye, fearing if she looked she would she something she didn't want to see. So, she kept her eyes on Holmes who steadily glanced back, his expression relaxed and passive.

"You wanted to see us?" he questioned, starting them off.

"Yes," she said nodding slowly. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. Despite being coerced into Eric's plan, I still went along with it. I could have told anyone at any time and I didn't. I am sorry for the part I played in this. Deep down I am glad that he was caught but I am caught in the middle of it as well."

"What are you charged with?" asked Holmes curiously.

"Aiding and Abetting," she replied quietly, as though not wanting to say it. "The murder charge against me and the others was dropped over evidence it was Eric's plan."

"Eric will be charged with murder and attempted theft?"

Sasha nodded. "Yes."

"What will happen to you?" asked Watson.

Sasha jumped faintly from not expecting to hear Watson's voice. She licked her lips and answered, still avoiding his gaze. "I am not sure, but it shouldn't be more than a fine and perhaps community service."

"I contacted your grandmother and told her what happened," said Holmes gently. "She's expecting you home when this is over."

The news hit Sasha hard, making her inhale sharply and told her tears at bay. She didn't think her grandmother would want anything to do with her. "What happened to my grandfather?"

"He died a few years ago," replied Holmes. "Your grandmother though is in good health and should be for another few years yet."

A knock sounded through the room, startling Sasha again and when the door opened she watched as Watson walked out, not glancing behind him. Sasha looked back to Holmes but as the tears soon became overwhelming she focused on her hands which were clasped together on the table.

"Time heals all wounds," said Holmes slowly, getting to his feet. "When the time is ready you will know and when it does, you have our address. Your apology is accepted."

Another knock sounded and this time, Holmes walked out, leaving Sasha alone. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. After what she had done she knew forgiveness was a long way off but from Holmes' words, it almost sounded possible.


End file.
